


On the other side of the war

by BleuAzur



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Camp Jupiter, Gen, Most of the characters are OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 18:22:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuAzur/pseuds/BleuAzur
Summary: Camp Half-blood and Camp Jupiter may be very different, but some things don't change. Life as a demigod has always been complicated- and it will always be.





	On the other side of the war

**Author's Note:**

> So this story was written in parallel to a friend who took to writing some untold stories of unknown heroes from Camp Half-blood. She hasn't posted it yet *nudge nudge* (even though she has already more words than I do ahaha)  
> Actually a lot of original characters here were based on characters from another fandom (send me a message if you think you know which ;D).  
> Nothing belongs to me btw.

Khalon’s back crashed heavily against whatever it was that was standing in the way. Considering the splat and the splinters digging into his back, his guess was the grocer’s display. His vision swam a bit. He hoped he hadn’t gotten a concussion. That would really suck. After blinking a few times, though, the dark and very bright spots began to disappear. Well, apart from a particularly big one, but it seemed that may be an actual person. Yep. Definitively a person. From the displeasure on her face, Khalon deducted that whatever he had crashed into belonged to her. Apologies and excuses precipitating in his head, all his mouth found useful to say was-

“Are you… are you an angel ?” Most probably a concussion. Damnit.

She raised her eyebrows. At least he had taken her by surprise. A small laugh escaped from her lips.

“You know, you’re at least a hundred years too late to say this kind of cheesy line”, she chuckled. “And, usually, when people destroy other people’s property, they apologise first.” Her tone became sterner. The displeasure had come back.

“I'm really _really_ sorry, truth is I wanted to apologise first but... I kinda... got distracted- not that it's your fault- I mean, you're just _so_ pretty, I had to-" Khalon cut himself off before digging his grave any deeper. Her laugh sounded even cuter. Trying to regain some dignity, he put his hands behind his shoulders in spite of the pain and attempted a somersault. Attempted. Bad _bad_ idea with a (probable) concussion. Plus, a few splinters were definitely inside his back now.

Well, at least she was amused. A second laugh reminded him of the one who had begun this whole ordeal in the first place. Not that it wasn't Khalon’s fault too but still. Balen wasn't the one whose back was full of splinters and fruit juice. That stung. A lot. Balen kept on laughing. What a little _douche_. Khalon would have gotten up to beat up that little shite but his ringing head told him exercising more than necessary with a head wound was an even worse idea than the somersault- well, technically that attempt had already been more exercise than necessary. Thankfully, he was spared further humiliation. The brown-haired angel extended her hand.

“So… What did Balen do this time ?” Apparently, she was accustomed to the antics of the little blond demon on the side.

“Hey, I didn’t do nothing for once !”, Balen protested.

She just stared at him, disbelief written all over her face. “… Right.” She rolled her eyes. “Are you hurt ?”, she asked as she pulled him up.

“Um, I’m pretty sure I could float with all the wood in my back and I probably have a concussion but, otherwise, everything’s peachy !” That was the moment his legs decided to give up. Fortunately, the girl was still holding him.

“Witty, uh ? I like that !” She winked at him. “Well, Mr. Witty, do you have a name ? Or did the head wound make you forget it ?”

A grin. “My name’s Khalon, but you can call me Khale ! What about you ?”, he said.

“Mine’s Agnes.”

“And you’re both standing in the middle of the street in broad daylight so if you would stop flirting, that would be nice”, a high pitched voice piped in. “Or get a room.”

“Balen !”, Agnes scolded. Khalon felt himself blush. Thank God- or was he supposed to say gods now ?- she wasn’t looking at him. The blond hellion was, though. He seemed ready to say something. The African-American demigod wasn’t going to let him. Khalon took a piece of wood from the ones he could feel were stuck in his mass and mess of hair and threw it to Balen’s face. That effectively shut him up. He could feel Agnes look at him disapprovingly however. Oops.

She sighed. “Come on, I’m bringing you inside. We have a first-aid kit. And you !” She turned around to face Balen. “Either you help get what’s broken out of the way or you go find trouble elsewhere than the middle of New Rome !”

Apparently, Balen was sufficiently afraid of Agnes to begin picking up pieces of wood right away.

Once inside, she seated him behind the counter of the shop before delving deeper inside. She soon came back with a large plastic container. She put it on the counter. He began carefully slipping off his top but she stopped him.

“Sadly, I think your t-shirt won’t be able to make it. It’d be easier for you and me both to just cut it off ”, she said as she took large scissors out of the box. Obviously, people here had to be prepared for all kinds of emergencies. He tried to nod then remembered how bad of an idea it was.

“Go ahead.” He was a little sad to lose it because of all he had gone through in that t-shirt, but well. After the operation was over, Agnes proceeded to wet a soft sponge and remove carefully most of the juice.

“Now, this part is going to hurt”, she warned. She took a pair of tweezers out of the kit. Khalon gripped his knees and tightened his jaw.

“So, I haven’t had my answer. What happened for you to end up thrown in my family’s merchandise ?”

Khalon was so focused on the slight pressure and comfortable warmth of her fingers- and the awful awful pull from the splinters being taken out- he almost didn’t register Agnes had said anything.

“Hm, wha- _own_ \- what ?”

“What happened ?”, she said as she pulled another piece of the broken stall out of his back.

“Balen was showing me around, because I just arrived, and we were discussing… some things then it kinda… went wrong, I guess”, he explained, scratching sheepishly behind his head- ouch. Ok, so moving his shoulder seemed to be a no-go too. Agnes went on to disinfect his wounds before wrapping them in bandages. Time for his head injury. Agnes took out a small flashlight and attempted to blind him. Well, no, but that was what it felt like.

“At least, I don’t think you have a concussion.”

“Yay me !”

She rolled her eyes, then put everything back into the plastic box.

“What in Pluto were you talking about for it to end up like this ?”, she asked. Good question.

“I think… We were talking about Lupa and all the stupid tests and stuff she made me do ? That was a real pain in my ass. I dunno why he reacted the way he did, though.”

Weirdly enough, Agnes put her hand on her forehead and, very slowly, dragged it down.

“You don’t know who Balen’s godly parent is, do you ?”

“…Should I ?”

She looked at him pointedly. “…It’s Lupa. His mother is Lupa.”

“Aaah… Wait. Shit.”

“…I’m not sure all the ambrosia we have could cure your problem.”

“That’s so mean !”, Khalon whined. He tried his Puppy Eyes™ which usually never failed to appeal to people’s hearts. Well. Usually. Agnes had a tougher nature than her lovely face suggested.

“Go help Balen”, she sighed, but the slight smile on her face betrayed her. Maybe it was a bit pathetic but he obeyed her immediately.

Outside, the blond demigod had already piled up most of the debris. Khalon gathered the smashed vegetables and fruit. What a waste. This pear was barely damaged… He tossed the fruit at the younger demigod who caught it in one hand. Balen stared at him with a scowl.

“You know… I’m sorry about earlier.” Khalon couldn’t help but reach towards his head in a nervous gesture- which was derailed by the pain that was almost becoming familiar. “For what I said about your mom. I didn’t really mean it. I was just complaining because it’s been… tiring. This whole demigod business.”

The son of Lupa grunted. He picked up a half-smashed fruit at his feet then threw it at Khalon’s face. The older demigod managed not to drop it- it would have been beyond salvageable (probably). It kind of looked like a peach from up close. But why-? …Wait. Maybe… maybe this was an apology ? Or not. Balen’s look certainly didn’t seem to indicate anything of the sort. And if he said something and this wasn’t an actual apology, Khalon would really look like a fool. Better not to say anything then. And avoid eye contact too, just in case.

The clean up didn’t take too much time, yet more than he had- perhaps foolishly- assumed it would. But they were done: the unsalvageable had been piled up next to a metallic trashcan. The rest had been left in front of the shop for Agnes to decide.

In spite of all the fruit he had eaten in an attempt not to waste too much, his stomach grumbled in hunger. From his approximative knowledge of sun positions- and the much better one he had of his internal clock-, he deducted that it must have been around noon. Probably later even. Meaning it was high time for lunch. Though he had heard somewhere that Romans only had one meal a day. However big, he hoped this wasn’t the case here. Being raised on Hobbits’ meal times, he didn’t think he would survive this kind of diet. And as a fourteen-year-old, that could affect his growth, after all. His stomach suddenly demonstrated a dying whale’s cries.

Balen looked at him incredulously. “I guess we should go grab a bite.” It seemed Khalon had well and truly been forgiven.

Khalon raised his arm, clenched his fist and brought it back close to his chest in victory. He winced. This still hurt a lot. The wound made him remember Agnes. Maybe they should ask her if she wanted to accompany them ?

“Agnes ?”, he asked, pushing the door open with his head. A small bell chimed. She was still at the counter.

“Hm ?” She was fiddling with a needle and a blue thread. It appeared she was fixing an old shirt.

“Do you want to come eat something with Balen and me ?”

She stopped to think for a few seconds. Finally, she shook her head.

“I’m eating with my parents today”, she said. Khalon pouted, but it seemed she was not to be deterred. He sighed before opening the door a little further. It was squishing his cheeks a bit, which made it kind of hard to speak.

“Well, Balen and I have gathered what looked like it could still be sold. There may be unrecognisable stuff, but we thought it would be better to leave that decision to you !”

“Okay, then. You can go eat now; I heard something dying and guessed it must have been you guys’ stomachs in spite of all the things you ate.” Apparently, they-  _he_ \- must not have been as discreet as he had thought. The urge to scratch behind his head came back. His uncomfortable position prevented it, which may have been a good thing considering his wounds. Khalon let out something of an awkward laugh.

“Hum… See you around, I guess, then ?”

“See you !”, was the cheery answer.

He had barely moved his head away from the door that he heard Balen’s voice.

“Ugh. Can you make your attempt at flirting any less obvious ? I’m already sorry for your siblings and your future cohort.” Khalon was reminded of the extended family he had recently discovered. Huh. What a weird thought it was that some people shared blood with him- no, what was it again ? Ah, yes. Ichor. After so long on his own, it was going to feel weird. Balen kept on talking. “I hope it wasn’t as exhausting to do it as it was to watch, otherwise, you’re probably going to keel over.”

“Hey ! I’ll have you know that I have a lot of stamina !”, he protested.”And I’m not as bad as you’re saying !”

Balen grunted a noise that sounded an awful lot like disbelief, before shrugging. He started off in the same direction from which they had come. Which made plenty of sense as the African American thought he had glimpsed some tables earlier.

“Uh, you said something about… my future cohort ? What’s that ?” That was the first time Khalon had ever heard anything of the sort. The son of Lupa glanced back at him over his shoulder.

“It’s… something like… a battle group, I guess. Which you’ll stay with all the time until you either die or retire. Unless you’ve got a quest but there aren’t that many of them. Few people actually go on one, and even fewer come back alive…” At that, Balen’s voice quietened, a ‘I wouldn’t see you surviving’ look on his face. However, the smirk on his lips reassured Khalon on the fact that the other must have been teasing him. He hoped as much at least.

“Huh…” The black-haired fourteen-year-old decided it was probably best not to linger on those ‘quests’. “So do I get to choose in which cohort I go ? Or is it decided by our parentage ?” He didn’t really know whether he would be happy to spend an apparently very long- or very short, but he didn’t want to think about that- time with them. On one hand, he had often longed to have an older or younger sibling with who he would have played or had pranks wars. On the other, all his school friends who had a sister or brother had always complained about them.

“You know, unlike you, most kids don’t actually get acknowledged by their godly parent right when they step inside camp. And some, like me, would actually end up alone in their cohort. So no, it’s not according to who your godly parent is.” The younger demigod’s voice held a trace of loneliness, which disappeared as quickly as it had come. “It’s quite complicated in fact-”

Balen’s explanation was cut off by the call of his name. Another blond, who appeared to be of Balen’s age, came running straight towards them.

“Bale ! I’ve been looking for you all morning !” In spite of the light perspiration on his forehead, there was no other sign of his supposed long search. “I waited at our rendez-vous point for _hours_  ! I thought we were supposed to spar together today !” The stranger suddenly seemed to remember Khalon’s presence. “Oh ! Is he the new guy ? Are you showing him around ? Whose son is he again…? Mercury’s ? No, wait, I think I remember now. You’re one of Mars’, aren’t you ?”

The older demigod was a bit overwhelmed. And who was that guy anyway ? He looked a lot like Balen… Were they brothers ? Or maybe even twins ?

“This is Jason. We aren’t actually twins, although we’ve been told often enough we look like we are. We have completely different parents. So not that closely related either. Did you listen when I said I would be alone in a cohort if we were sorted by parentage ?” Wao, was the son of Lupa a mind-reader ? Or maybe he had said that out loud. “I’m not a mind-reader; you _are_  saying it out loud.” Sheepish, Khalon resisted the urge to scratch his head- again. He would probably have to pay a lot more attention to not hurt himself there because that was painful.

“Nice to meet you, son of Mars”, Jason greeted, offering his hand.

“Same ! And my name is Khalon; just so you don’t have to call me ‘son of Mars’ anymore”, he winked before shaking the offered hand.

“Got it !” A sudden rumble interrupted them. Khalon blushed. Wait, that wasn’t his stomach. Jason’s face was red to the ears. He coughed behind his fist. “Shall we get something to eat ?”, he said nonchalantly, even though his poker face wasn’t up to it yet.

“We were on our way there actually”, Balen answered.  
  
“What are we standing around for then ?”

“Well, you’re the one holding us up actually.”

“Why are you being so mean with me ?”, Jason whined as they set out. “I thought we were friends !”


End file.
